Melusine sighed with relief and set to work by the light of the lantern. Lucy had been ignoring her, not purposefully, but noticeably. ‘Gammon. Sheppard. His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot. Recovering herself, Melusine tucked the weapons out of sight, down into the deep holsters hidden under the petticoat of her riding habit, and went back into the house where Martha awaited her in some impatience. They were wed in Florence, in the grandest cathedral she had ever seen, the Santa Maria del Fiore. “But I have forbidden it!” he said, raising his voice.
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